Dream a Little Dream
by kidofthefrozenfrontrange
Summary: Ron and Hermione are dreaming about the same thing, but gathering completely different conclusions on the matter.
1. Chapter 1

**It's been a while, so forgive this probable terribleness.**

**As per usual I own nothing. Enjoy!**

* * *

The bindings caged her in. Not only in the chair, facing more death eaters than Hermione had ever seen, ever even fathomed, but also bound her into the overwhelming fear. The fear that she would not escape this torture, try as she might to break the ropes that kept her there. She would not finish school, see Harry defeat Voldemort, see her family ever again. She would not even see the next day.

Tears, at this point, had dried. She had no idea how long she had been there, but the act of crying had become impossible for her. The ropes tore at flesh she could no longer feel anymore. Still, when the doors finally swung open and revealed who was coming to greet her, the fight in her surged again, as intense as the fear that could not escape her.

Bellatrix Lestrange strolled in as casual as Hermione would walk into class, smiling as if she had recently received millions of galleons. It was a look that, upon the insane Belletrix, could only mean trouble for Hermione. Her fear was confirmed when the door shut behind the death eater. She was not alone. Carrying a vial of liquid Hermione vaguely recognized was Snape, eyes cold and severe as usual.

Her struggle was futile as the Veritaserum slid coldly down her throat from Snape's vial. Belletrix with glee once the bitter liquid was done. Even Snape had a small, grim grin one his face. Hermione could once again feel the urge to cry out, but was drowned in the forced truths suddenly rushing to the surface like bile. A cackle from Belletrix prompted the other faceless death eaters to stand in attention, giving Hermione's pain an audience.

"This will be_ fun_!" Belletrix exclaimed, "Severus, darling, would you like to start?"

"We should make sure it's actually working properly, Belletrix" Snape drawled. Lestrange sighed, but put her finger to her lips, pondering slowly what they could ask.

"I suppose you're right. What shall we ask hmmmm?" She asked, taking pleasure in the delay.

"I think something simple will suffice..."

"No, no, no Severus. Something she wouldn't want us to know about. A deep dark secret!"

"Isn't that the point anyway?"

"tut, tut, Sevy," Belletrix admonished before turning her attention directly to Hermione. She tilted her head slightly, never faltering on eye contact. Her head tilted back and forth, swaying playfully, almost gracefully until her eyes lit up in a way that, if it had been on any other person, Hermione might have found amusing.

"I think I know!" She giggled. "Little miss Mudblood must be dying to taint our lines, eh? Tell me, miss Mudblood, who is it that makes you all warm inside? Who do you want to have babies with and live happily ever after with?"

"Who do you love?"

The question bore into her like the binds around her, the answer flowing through her with unstoppable force. There was not stopping it. She could try, twisting and turning away from Belletrix, refusing to look at her or biting her tongue, her cheek, her lip. Anything that would stop her from saying it. That thing she had barely been able to say to herself, let alone a room full of her enemies. She could not stop it.

"Weasley," She breathed, barely above a whisper. There was a pause in the air before the last part came tumbling out as well.

"Ron,"

The confession drew all sound from the room. The quiet mumble of the death eaters ceased. Even the sound of Belletrix's breathing not two inches from her face was no longer present. It was surreal. Nothing about what she had said made her expect this sort reaction. The silence was more unnerving than anything they had done.

Finally, after a feeling that lasted longer than an eternity, a sound escaped Snape of all people. It was something between a chuckle and a scoff, a sound Hermione was not expecting. It seemed, however, that everyone else was. As soon as the chuckle escaped Snape's mouth, a cascade of other laughter soon followed. Before long, an entire room was laughing voraciously at Hermione.

As her cheeks reddened she could tell it was not malicious laughter she had occasionally heard from them during her experience, but rather a bemused laughter she did not expect to come from these sorts of people. It was the kind of laughter that made her inexplicably defensive. A position she probably should not take, given her position.

"Excuse me..." She murmured.

"I'm sorry," Snape said, choking back laughter, "I'm sorry, but it's so..."

"Ridiculous!" Belletrix chimed in before rolling back into her own fit of laughter.

"Yes, exactly!" He exclaimed.

"What?" Hermione asked defensively.

"You and Weasley-" He could not contain himself, Snape started laughing too much to complete his sentence.

"Whats?" Hermione once again asked, getting angry.

"Well, no offense," Belletrix started, "But you're just so...different. It would never work out," She explained.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hermione, let's face it," Snape intervened, trying to keep a straight face, "I can barely comprehend why the two of you are friends, much less anything more. I mean, can you imagine it?" The room once again roared with a fresh set of laughs.

Hermione could not believe what she was hearing. After all her months, possibly even years of doubt she was hearing it from literally the last people who could possibly know anything about her and Ron. Even death eater's thought this was a bad idea! She was past fear and defense and purely angry as the laughs did not subside.

"I think that's quite enough," She tried, wanting the raucous laughs at her expense to stop. It fell on deaf ears.

"Aren't you people supposed to be torturing me?" She shouted.

"I think you're doing a fine job of it yourself, darling," Belletrix said with some sympathy before the room became deafeningly loud and Hermione awoke with a start from her dream.

Sweat soaked her sheets as Hermione looked around the darkened dorm of Hogwarts. She could hear the other girls sleeping soundly and silently cursed their easy slumber. Reluctantly she looked at her arms and saw nary a scratch. She was safe and sound, away from the death eaters and the ridicule.

Still, she was sure of one thing above all else. She would never, ever, under any circumstances at all tell anyone at all about what she was or was not feeling about one Ron Weasley.

* * *

**That first part is probably as serious as this thing's gonna get. ****This one's been in my head for a while, hopefully you all will enjoy this.**

**Questions? Comments? Review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all! Second chapter, joy. Thanks for the review and faves and such!**

**Enjoy!  
**

* * *

Meanwhile, at not quite the same time on not quite the same night, Ronald Weasley was having not quite the same dream. And it was driving everyone else in his dormitory insane. After all, there was an unspoken agreement among the teenage boys of the Gryffindor dorm to graciously cast a silencing charm amongst yourself when things got a bit...out of hand, as it is prone to happen with teenage boys.

Unfortunately for Ron, he did not extend that courtesy to his fellow bunkmates, who were now wide awake and listening with various interest to Ronald's late night proclamations. For some like Seamus Finnagan it was with thorough amusement and well thought out plotting on his part to tease Ron later with this. Others, like Neville simply sat in awe, unsure what to do, and others, like Harry could only sit in horror; for he had his own dream, a simple dream never to hear his best mate moan his other best mate's name in passion whilst in bed.

Finally, in an act of mercy more than anything else, Dean woke the boy up, much to his tired confusion. Unsure of exactly what was going on, Ron was fairly certain the presence of four boys standing over him was probably not a good thing.

"Whasgoion?" He blearily asked.

"Mate, keep it down a notch," Seamus laughed.

"Huh?"

"You're...talking in your sleep," Harry attempted delicately.

Blood rose to Ron's cheeks as he tried to remember what exactly he was dreaming about just a few moments prior. He was certain it involved a few important, discreet matter he would rather the rest of the boys were not aware of. Matters that involved the infuriating and amazing Hermione Granger...and possibly rescuing her from train tracks she had been tied to by death eaters. Somewhere in there may have been confessions of undying love on her part. At any rate, he did his best to act nonchalant.

"Really," He coughed weakly, "I don't even remember what I was dreaming about." At this, even Harry could not keep from laughing at.

"I'm sure Neville here can read you back the transcript," Seamus chuckled, "his quick quotes was writing furiously to make sure we could catch everything you said...and maybe add a little bit of exposition for our amusement."

All of a sudden, Neville produced a full sheet of paper and Ron could feel the same impending doom he felt when entering the Quidditch pitch enter his gut. With a puffed up chest of grandiose, Seamus began to read the material.

_"...As he grasped her firmly in his hands, our hero moaned his wilting flower's name, "Hermione," passionately as she finally succumbed to his power and his animalistic male force. There was not denying his attraction as he once again moaned, "Hermione" as if it was the only word he knew. With renewed vigor she grabbed his throbbing wand-"_

"Neville!" the group shouted as the description took a decidedly _adult _turn.

"Sorry, it must have slipped into romance novel mode," Neville mumbled, grasping for the paper to tear up, hoping the others wouldn't question why his quick quotes was on "romance" mode in the first place.

"Hehe," Ron chuckled nervously, trying desperately to find a way to climb out of this situation.

"Whatever, mate, just keep it down," Harry sighed, trying desperately to help his friend and get back to sleep and forget the sounds Ron had made.

"Right, sorry." Ron said, turning back into his bed with the rest of the boys.

If Harry was a lucky boy, that would have been it for the evening. He could have resumed his own slightly inappropriate dreaming and never speak a word of this to anyone ever again. Unfortunately, the Boy Who Lived was also the boy who just couldn't catch a break, and it took Ron all of ten seconds to appear beside his bed, casting a silencing charm and rousing Harry from his slumber.

"I wasn't really, you know...doing all of...that." Ron stumbled through.

"What are you talking about?" Harry said, desperately hoping ignorance would give him a pass out of this conversation.

"What Seamus was saying...that wasn't what was going on,"

"...Okay."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You don't believe me?"

"I don't care."

"But you believe me?"

"Ron, I'll believe whatever you want me to believe so long as you will let me get to sleep."

"Right, sorry."

Harry sighed, the dejection in Ron's voice was enough for him to feel guilty as the best friend. He wanted to talk about things, even if Harry didn't he couldn't ignore that.

"But for what it's worth, if any of that was true...maybe saying something to someone..._else_ might be a good idea. Goodnight."

But there was no sleep to be had. Not for Ron at least, and it wasn't just because of the obnoxiously loud snoring Seamus has that, all of a sudden, not one person minded. Sure, he talked in his sleep, but sounding like a hippograff in heat wasn't that big of an annoyance in comparison to these guys. No, it was something else entirely. It was Hermione. Of course it was. It had been Hermione for weeks, months, possibly even years. It was the one thing he could never stop thinking about. What's worse, it was the one thing he never wanted to stop thinking about either.

It had been a long time coming, but there was one thing he was certain about above anything else. This was the moment Ronald Weasley made not quite the same conclusion as Hermione Granger. He was going to bare it all. He was going to tell her exactly how he felt.

* * *

**There you have it. Questions? Comments? Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three! Enjoy!**

* * *

There were many things that Hermione excelled at, but Ronald Weasley was not one of them. To her he was an unsolvable puzzle she wanted nothing more than to solve. In fact, if he would simply stop talking long enough for one bloody moment she was certain she could. And if she could solve it she wouldn't have to hide in the broom closet everytime he passed by nowadays.

Sometimes, staying up late at night thinking about this particular enigma she would suspect that perhaps Ron was some sort of masterful genius. That he knew exactly what he did to her, exactly how her heart performed daring acrobatics and her brain thought it appropriate to reduce her to a giggling mass whenever he was around. Maybe he was a master of language, carefully choosing their arguments as part of some grand plan she hadn't figured out yet. Then, she would remember that she had, on more than one occasion, witnessed him almost eat a napkin during dinner because he wasn't thinking past consuming all came between him and the bottom of his plate.

This improbability was not a comfort to her, but rather made her feel even more silly, hiding in a closet like she found herself now (coincidentally the day after Ron's embarassingn late night sleep talking). How silly she felt indeed, waiting for her best friends to pass so she could get out and do something productive like find someone who wrote the notes from Potions she had neglected in part due to her silent urge to shout at Snape and inform him he could fancy whomever she pleased mid-lesson and the disctracting and intoxicating choice Ronald had made to sit beside her.

Facing the choice between staying in the closet and getting behind in lecture, Hermione reluctantly answered to the desperate voice of academic devotion and opened the closet door. Looking out into the empty hallway she chuckled at her ridiculous behavior immediately. There was nothing to be scared of, least of all her friends. She had been hiding her feelings for a long time now. A silly little dream shouldn't change that. She could handle this. She was already handling this. So, with a confident stroll nearby third years would describe as a cross between a pigeon and a kneazle, she made her way to the common room.

Of course, she did not account for Snape's daily afternoon stroll about the castle. A walk specifically designed to scare as many first year Gryffindors as possible into tears. So ipon hearing his drawling voice proclaim, "Granger!" she was understandably surprised.  
"Yes professor?" She asked meekly.

"Tell me the truth..."

And then she got light headed, for all the blood that could possibly be in her body had decided to have a party in her cheeks. This was not the dream, no matter how much she willed it to be, there were not death eaters, no Belletrix Lestrange. In fact, in the corner was a first year, trying desperately to hide beside a suit of armor away from the ridicule of Snape. She was a fast thinker, but no matter how fast her brain worked, her mouth was a little faster. Making her answer to Snape's question:

"Why are you walking like an injured mountain goat?"

This:

"Ronald Weasley."

A perplexed Snape was left in the dust as Hermione continued her trek with much less pep in her step to the common room. That lack of confidence did not help her when the entrance to the common room swung open and she was quickly greeted by very friendly versions of Ron and Harry. Someone who didn't know any better may have welcomed the warm interaction. They would be people much less wise than her.

"What do you want?" She asked to an affronted Ron and guilty Harry.

"What ever do you mean?" Ron asked with innocence insincerly dripping and bashful eyelashes Hermione wanted desperately to kiss. Unable to look at him without giggling she stared down Harry instead.

"Can we borrow your notes from potions?" He asked sheepishly.

"And what were you doing that you couldn't write them yourselves?"

"...Writing a list of things that would scare Snape." Harry said, trying to hide his smile.

"We started with a comb." Ron added, hoping that would help.

Hermione desperately to laugh, and possibly get a copy of that list for her own amusement. More than that, however, she wanted to not panic. How on earth was she going to explain that she, Hermione Granger: Human Transcriber, did not take notes? They would never believe she just wasn't paying attention. And she couldn't exactly say she was distracted by Ron's wonderfully ginger hair, either. For the first time that afternoon, however, her mouth and brain decided to work together.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I didn't take notes this class."

"...You're joking." Ron scoffed.

"For you're information I am not. Unlike the two of you, I have been working tirelessly on my essay and I was reviewing it all class."

She lied. There was no essay due anytime soon. Of course, she knew the two of them wouldn't know that. They always relied on her to remind them of essays and homework due no matter how many times she got them organizers...and filled them out for them. Finally, it worked to her advantage.

"There's an essay due?" Harry asked.

"Leave it to you boys to forget a thing like that...well I'm not going to help you this time, that's for certain. So don't even ask. In fact I'm going to my room right now so you can't ask me."And with a huff she left the two behind, slightly flustered and completely panicked about this supposed essay of theirs.

"Can we at least know for what class it's for?" Ron shouted after her.

She did not answer as the door shut behind her. But the breathe of air in her lungs finally escaped after a long exercise in waiting. Apparently, things were not handled. She did not have things in control. In fact far from it. That made Ron Weasley's presence in her life a problem. A problem with only one solution. Run and hide.

* * *

**There you have it, hopefully as enjoyable as the amount I had writing it...during Physics class. That stuff's useless right?**

**Anyway, let me know what you think- Questions? Comments? Review!  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**So it was either add this chapter at 3:30 am tomorrow morning while half asleep about to GO IN to work for the day, or now, sweet, innocent 9 pm at night (here in my woods). So enjoy this earlier than anticipated (even if it you didn't actually know about all this posting business of mine as it's all in my head).**

* * *

Operation: Thunderlips, the name in which Ron had bestowed his plans to make Hermione fall in love with him (much to the chagrin of Harry, who would have preferred the operation have no name, least of all one involving lips of any kind), was not off to a very successful start. To begin with, he was having a rather hard time actually finding the girl.

While normally he could have simply looked to the left of him during any lecture and find her busily scribbling away furiously in that adorable way of hers he lately found her on sitting across the room from him. Often after having arrived just before lessons were to begin, so he couldn't even pitch woo beforehand.

Then of course there was this essay, which he wasn't even sure which class if was for, that seemed to be taking up all of her time. It would have also been taking up his time too if anyone else in the entire school knew what the damned essay was about. Apparently everyone else in Hogwarts also relied on Hermione to be the one paying attention in class.

But, even worse than all of that was, despite having a catchy name for the project, Ron didn't actually have a plan for what he was going to say or do when he finally told Hermione how he felt. Really all he had thought about was the amazingly epic kiss that was to follow his confession and, though he would deny it tooth and nail to any male in Hogwarts and claim instead to only want in her knickers, the thrill of being in a relationship with her. Holding hands, cuddling, feeding each other in the great hall, long walks, talking about feelings...really anything boys of his age were supposed to find obnoxious he wanted to experience with her.

The truth of the matter was, however, Ron simply had no idea how to accomplish this with any girl, let alone one he fancied as much as Hermione. He just wasn't very good with women, a fact he had reluctantly confessed to Harry who, subsequently, laughed at his "revelation" and responded, "Well I could have told you that, mate," in a way rather unfitting of a supposed best friend. Even if he was one of the few witnesses to his attempt to compliment Lavender Brown that ended in him comparing her to a gnome.

It was because of Harry's light mocking that Ron decided that winging it was the way to go. It would prove his git of a best friend wrong and get him the girl! Perfect! All he had to do was find her.

Luckily for him, he just so happened to be in the right place in the right time and found Hermione blissfully distracted by a book outside of the Gryffindor common room. With the grace of a slightly inebriated koala he sidled up to her, only knocking down a second year in the process.  
"Hermione!" He greeted, at a volume slightly louder than he wanted that managed to start her quite severely.  
"Ron!" She said, in a equally loud voice. There was a pause as he tried to determine what to say.  
"...H-Hermione!"  
"...Ron."

It went like that for ages before Ron had the sudden realization that he was an enormous git, and that winging it was possibly the stupidest thing he could have possibly done. Now he was in some sort of neverending vortex where the only thing either of them could think to say was the other's name.

Thankfully, in a case where the word "Thankfully" has never appeared before, Snape arrived to witness the debacle. His penchant for torturing Gryffindors, and particularly those known to be friends with one Harry Potter, actually came to Ron's advantage as he immidiately spotted the two and zoned in for the kill.

"Weasley, Granger! What are you two doing?" He asked.

"Ummmm..." Ron could not answer. He wasn't quite sure what they were doing other than being inept at language together.

"Whatever it is it's clearly disrupting others," He sneered.

"What? Ron asked, unable to control himself, "What are you talking about we're just talking!"

"Could you have possibly chosen a better location Mr. Weasley?"

Ron looked around. For the first time he noticed exactly where this "conversation", for lack of a better word, was taking place. Right smack dab in the middle of the entrance to their common room. On one side there was a pile up of students of various years, all not wanting to interrupt the larger students, namely Ron, prohibiting entrance. On the other side, there was every student Ronald Weasley had ever known, it appeared. Sheamus was beside himself with laughter and, though others were more kind and discreet, so were the rest of the sixth years Ron would later have to threaten, he was sure.

"Err..."

"Brilliant," Snape sighed, "Detention, Weasley."

"What? For standing in a doorway?"

"No, for apparently jinxing Granger here the other day. I don't know what form of jelly legs you used on her but it was quite clear something had happened to her and and I have reason to believe it was you."

Ron turned to Hermione only to find she had already disappeared into the common room, and likely up to her bedroom. He was torn between concern for what had happened to her earlier and anger over the unfair accusation.

"It wasn't me!"

"I've lost interest in this, please leave now." Snape waved him off and began shouting at the first and second years for backing up the hallway.

After a long, hard moment in which Ron could only stand in wonder (thankfully inside the common room now that Ginny had the decency to at least move him in) he finally spoke.

"W-what happened?" He asked no one in particular.

"Well, you got detention." Harry explained.

"No, not that."

"You're a git?" Ginny offered, a usual explanation she would give to her older brothers for any of their behaviors.

"No!" He yelled, exasperated, "What just _happened_?" He asked again, but was met with additional shrugs of confusion from Harry and Ginny.

But neither of them could answer. There was only one person who could answer Ron's question. Himself. What had happened? He had made a complete arse of himself in front of Hermione. She hadn't fallen in love with him, in fact if anything he was pretty sure he made her hate him slightly. There was no winging things. He would have to do things right. He would have to plan, and prepare. And there was only one person he knew that could possibly help him with something of this magnitude. Besides Hermione herself, of course.

"Ginny, I have to tell you something..."

* * *

**As I haven't done this all story, I would like to thank everyone who's favorites, alerted, reviewed, and of course read right now. It is much appreciated.**

**So then, Questions? Comments? Review!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**New chapter, thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, out on alert, and of course read the story so far. Hopefully if you're at this point you're mildly interested in this continuing.**

**Enjoy.  
**

* * *

She should have known better. She should have known better when Ron said he loved her. When all of his words were perfect, as if perhaps someone else had chosen them for him. So poignant and beautiful, there was no way he could have done it himself. Of course, it probably should have been the fact that he was beside firelight, reading a book whilst cradling Crookshanks lovingly in his arms that Hermione should have known it was a dream.

It was almost on the precipice of becoming routine now for her to dream of something involving Ron Weasley. Sometimes it was a simple dream like the one she had just a few minutes prior, where he tells her he loves her and she reveals the same. Other times it was outlandish, with Ron wielding some weapon and bravely saving her from Draco Malfoy in a horrendous handlebar mustache. Every time she would wake up embarrassed and with renewed vigor that this crush was a terrible, terrible idea. Precipice or not, it had long since started to get on her nerves.

The same could be said for her decision to avoid Ron as much as possible. As much as she enjoyed the library, there was only so much she could take before yearning for human contact. Her roommates Lavender and Padma, she had decided after a prolonged and painful night discussing the varying interpretations of pink, did not count as that human contact. No, there were few people who did count and Ron was one of those people.

Though she hated every minute, she had to admit she was also getting fairly good at dodging her friend. Quidditch practice took up a good portion of his time and she could at least still watch them, since they were too busy to talk to her she doubted she could say something stupid. Any other time was spent studying, although the excuse that she was working on an essay would have to stop. One day in the library a wide eyed, stressed Ravenclaw sixth year begged her repeatedly to tell her the topic of the essay due. Apparently her excuse impacted more than just Ron and Harry (the professors were not exactly complaining though, as they had recently had a spike in extra credit essays that gave them hope that this particular year wasn't a complete waste of their teaching abilities).

She persevered, though. Not wanting to make things awkward between herself and Ron was priority number one, and aversion was the best tactic. It wasn't perfect either though. Hermione had few vices, but reading was one of them and a particularly bad one at that. She read, morning, noon and night. Eating, sleeping, really any activity that didn't need her full attention was met with reading. This included some activities that others, namely the students of Hogwarts, thought in her case, deserved her full attention. Like walking, for one.

When Hermione walked and read it was a force to be reckoned with. Hermione always felt the need to completely immerse herself in her reading. Every sentence, every word, was read with veracity others reserved for things like breathing. Walking was no exception. When Hermione walked by with a book in hand, even Slytherin got out of her way. There was no one stupid enough to stay on her path, thinking she wouldn't bulldoze right through them.

There was, however, a Gryffindor brave enough on this particular day. One who had been trying and rather spectacularly failing to get her attention for quite some time. And so it became clear that there was a big flaw in Hermione's plan to avoid Ron all the time. He knew her best of all, and knew exactly when he would be able to get her attention without her leaving before he could speak.

"Herm-" He started as she brushed past him, not stopping to acknowledge the fact that someone had even spoken to her, let alone Ron.

If she had been thinking about it, of course, she would have frozen on the spot. Possibly forgotten how to do rudimentary things like remain standing. Possibly lucky for her, however, the book kept her well out of touch with reality and Ronald Weasley and the fact that he was now following her as she walked down the halls, trying and still failing to get her attention.

Another, less acknowledged flaw in her behavior was the moving staircase that, up until this point, she had never actually crossed whilst reading. Though her previous behavior would not suggest it, the fact that Ron was with her in this instance was very, very fortunate.

"HERMIONE!" He finally shouted in warning.

If anyone was going to get her to turn away from her book, it was Ron. Upon hearing his voice she went into panic mode, looking around to try and find him. It was quite the shock to realize he was in fact right beside her; enough to make her already tenuous footing even more compromised.

Caught off guard by both the presence of Ron and the suddenly no longer present staircase, she did not have time to react. Her wand rested in her pocket, and her voice within her breath. Everything moved in slow motion as she began to tumble. She saw a few onlookers, mostly with looks of shock in their faces, frozen as much as she was. Most, however, had not even noticed her predicament. Among the few noticeable exceptions was Draco Malfoy of all people. Even though he was clearly not responsible, she still couldn't help but imagine him twirling his imagined mustache in pleasure. In fact, upon closer inspection she saw small wisps of hair above his lip.

It looked ridiculous. That, she feared, would be her last thought. About Draco's wayward mustache. How dreadful. Of course, this was all a bit dramatic. She was never really in danger of falling. In fact, in real time, as Ron watched it, she mis-stepped and immediately began flailing wildly, moving in a strange, amusing manner that he could hear Draco chuckle at from afar. Slowly, mostly in order to keep himself from getting hit by her wild gesticulations, he moved toward her and grabbed her away from the ledge that she would not fall in.

"I've got you," He said, and she felt herself go wonky in his arms.

"...T-thank you." She replied, staying in his grasp for just a moment longer than was appropriate before beginning to pick up her things and flee.

"Wait!" He called out. She reluctantly turned around.

"I wanted to tell you something..."

* * *

**Alrighty then, Questions? Comments? Review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Well then, bit longer than expected break between chapters. Sorry about that, but thank you to those who have favorited, put on alert, reviewed and of course read the story. You rock, and have more patience than me.**

**Enjoy.

* * *

**"I love you."

"I...I love you too!"

Ron exhaled the breath he wasn't completely aware he had ever taken in the first place and took her immediately into his arms. There was suddenly raucous applause all around him. But he was not embarrassed, not the way he expected to be under the circumstances. Far from it. He was on cloud nine. The entire room was electric and, with the exception of Draco and his excessively stupid mustache, happened to be waiting for the same thing he was.

Slowly, slower than time itself he moved closer to her. She moved, equally as slow towards him. He took his time, for he had been waiting for years. There was no need to make anything fast now. He was going to savor every second. Nothing would keep him from enjoying this.

Unless, of course, Harry decided to gracelessly burst into their private moment all of the sudden with little to no hesitation. He walked up to the pair like a clueless, excited puppy craving attention. Try as Ron might, he just could not ignore the boy when he was like this.

"What is it?" He sighed.

"I did it!" He exclaimed with the excitement of someone clearly unaware of the mood of anyone else, particularly the homicidal one Ron found himself in.

"Did what?" He asked with less and less patience.

"I defeated Voldemort!"

"Hey, that's great...Ok, bye!"

"But..." Harry faltered, "Don't you wanna know how?"

"Nope."

"But...it was really hard and stuff," Harry whined.

The complaint fell on deaf ears and Ron gently shoved him towards the door with little hesitation. On any other day he might have listened to Harry's objections and attempts to explain his rather impressive feat. But not now. Not when he was going to turn around and kiss Hermione Granger. Turning on his heel, his smile disappeared faster than Harry under his cloak. Instead of Hermione waiting for him he only found Neville Longbottom. Not exactly his ideal snogging partner. The boy was snacking on some pudding. Ron fought the urge to scream in frustration.

"What are you doing here?" Neville shrugged, "Well...where did Hermione go?"

"She left."

"Why?"

"Must of thought you were kicking everyone out just now."

"Then...why did you stay?" Again, the boy shrugged, taking a bit of his pudding once more.

With a groan that sounded a bit more like a growl he started for the door to go after her. From behind him he could hear Neville objecting to his actions, but the boy didn't move to stop him either. Nothing would...except perhaps what was on the other side of the door he had slammed on Harry a few moments earlier.

The hallway was completely crowded. It was a rare, bur not impossible situation. Usually however, the hallway was crowded by someone other than Severus Snape, and certainly never thousands of him. It was a shock to his system. Enough of a shock in fact, to jolt Ronald Weasley awake.

It was not an ideal start to his day, but it could not possibly be worse than the day he had before. Nothing would ever match the horror of asking his younger sister for love advice. The smug look on her face when she demanded the name of the girl in question...the even worse dance that came after learning it was Hermione...Worst of all was the fact that every word out of her mouth made complete and utter sense. Short of asking his baby sister how she knew so much about romance (and deal with the very non-discreet twitching of discomfort of Harry beside her) he was left with two options.

He could listen, unequivocally agree to any scheme she may cook up and, undoubtedly get Hermione to love him in less than twenty four hours. He would be happy and not have to wait any longer to be with her. They would spend the rest of their lives together and have kids who would also attend Hogwarts and find their soul mates too and live happily ever after.

Or, he could ignore it. Ignore the fact that his baby sister has apparently, on multiple occasions been wooed by far too many boys than he would care to imagine (including his supposed git of a best friend). That way, he could save the energy of having to hex every one of those boys and never again have to deal with Ginny's wretched, smug, knowing looks.

The choice was clear. At least, it would be to less stubborn people. Instead of accepting what happened to be very good advice, he decided to change his mind. He didn't need help. He could do this. He just needed to be himself (a fact that, ironically, Ginny had reminded him of earlier. Which, oblivious to him, meant he was using her advice and would once again be privy to a jaunty jig from her later).

It was that thought that carried him through the rest of the day and into the hallway, hot on the heels of Hermione. While others leaped from her path, he wanted nothing more than to be right smack dab in the middle of that path. A fact that became quite advantageous when she came full speed to the staircase and carelessly taking a step into nothing.

Love does a funny thing to a person. While others would describe Hermione's flailing attempts to regain balance as the funniest thing they'd ever seen, Ron only saw beauty. He saw windmilling arms like the wings of doves. Knees buckling and unbuckling like a ballerina. The outrageously unwarranted look of fear on her face as the worst possible thing that he could ever witness.

It was that look that snapped him out of his reverie and into action, getting her to safety. Through some stroke of luck, having her beside him did not erase his mantra for the day. In fact, quote the opposite. He could do this.

"I have to tell you something..."

* * *

**Questions? Comments? Review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Phew, that was a much longer than expected break. Whoops, sorry about that. No excuses really other than my bad. Kind of short too, but an important one. Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Her eyes were winced slightly as the words came out. Hermione was surprised, more than anything else, on three counts overall. The first, was from the words themselves. In the three seconds between the first part of Ron's sentence and the second, those words were not exactly what she had in mind. And for there having been approximately six thousand two hundred and thirty one scenarios come to mind in that moment, it was quite a shock to have that not be one of them. Sure, the list was not complete yet and, yes, most of the ways she thought this would go involved either rejection or confessions of fantastical love but "what are you doing?" just did not come up.

The second thing to surprise her was just how deep Ron's voice had become recently. Had it really been that long since she had spoken to him that his voice was that unfamiliar to her? More than that, how did it happen that his voice could change so rapidly in a manner of one sentence? The third thing to surprise her? That her eyes were still winced shut.

"Granger!" That same, clearly not Ron voice perked here eyes open.

When they did open she saw that the hall was empty now, save her, Ron, and the only person able to clear out a hallway in three seconds flat. Feeling quite foolish Hermione glanced at Ron, hoping he would somehow also have had his eyes closed during the ordeal. The strange look he was giving her suggested otherwise. Reluctantly she turned her attention to the man in question and Snape looked down at her curiously.

"I don't believe I have once seen you unable to answer a professor's question. Have I finally stumped you Granger? Pity...on such a simple question."

"Sorry, professor," she said before she realized it wasn't actually class and the answer wouldn't be on the exam.

"Indeed," He sniffed, "I'd rather hoped your sudden aversion to Weasley and Potter meant you had finally had finally wizened up and chosen a better path and...companionship."

She could feel her cheeks burn red as she attempted to gather a response. She wanted to rather uncharacteristically shout at the professor. She also wanted to curl into a ball. Was she really that obvious in her aversion to Ron? Nothing came out of her mouth, however, and no curling took place. Instead, she watched a look of slow, dawning realization on Ron's face. Bollucks.

"Pity. Perhaps detention may help steer you in the right direction again?" Snape asked with satisfaction.

There was nothing much after that, except of course the smile on Snape's face as he left menacingly lingering between the two friends. Trying not to acknowledge it, Hermione began to make her way back to the common room, hoping Ron would not follow. It was a ridiculous hope of course, as he was supposed to be in the common room just as she was. At the very least he kept his distance, walking in silence two to three steps behind her. This was not a complete comfort though, as the silence hung in the air and Hermione felt compelled to speak.

"So..."

"It's true, isn't it?" Ron asked, keeping her from having to make small talk about kneezles.

"Sorry?"

"You've been avoiding us..." Ron said, more to himself than her, "Have we done something wrong?" he asked with a hurt, puppy dog look that just made Hermione want to hold him.

"Professor Snape does not know what he's talking about,"

"Except that he does," Ron started, "He's right. I didn't notice til now though. Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not."

"Bollucks."

"Ron, language."

"Why?"

"Because it's not proper for a prefect you set-"

"Not my bloody cursing, why are you doing this?"

"I'm not, it must be a coincidence,"

"So you admit it's happening!"

"I-no!"

"You said you weren't avoiding us, but you said yourself it's a coincidence which means you acknowledge you haven't been around recently."

Hermione had to pause a moment. For the first time in quite some time she was losing an argument. Not just any argument, either, and argument with Ron Weasley. This would not stand.

"I acknowledged no such thing."

"Fine, this isn't happening, I'm just imagining things," Ron said, sarcastically.

"You said it, not me."

"I did."

"Well I'm glad you could reach common sense Ronald."

"So you aren't avoiding me?" He asked defiantly.

"Absolutely not," She lied just as defiantly.

"Great."

"Great."

"Than go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend."

Damn him and his chess mind. Hermione could not hesitate for long or he would know he was right. He could not be right. She would not let him. Which is why her common sense and carefully placed planning and strategic moves she had made for weeks now went straight out of the window.

"Fine."

"Fine."

And so Ron and Hermione's first date was set.

* * *

**Alrighty. Once again sorry about the delay. My endless boredom in American History (something not normally the case but when you're professor has the most monotonous voice that cannot possibly be legal at 7 in the morning it happens) will luckily make updates happen more often. In the meantime, questions? Comments? Review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Slightly more prompt update! Yay! Thank you all for the favoriting and alerting and reviewing, much appreciated.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Ron sat in bed that night thoroughly confused. It was not an uncommon situation for him, particularly when Hermione Granger happened to be on the mind, but this time was slightly different. It was not the expected anger after one of their shouting matches, but something rather new. Excitement? Nerves? A bad pudding from dinner?

By all accounts he should have been on top of the world. Sure, he hadn't exactly told Hermione how he was feeling, and yes he now had another detention with Snape. He also was fairly certain now that Hermione was also avoiding him for some reason he was fairly certain involved some other boy who did not deserve the extra attention but instead needed a swift kick in the arse from him...Actually he was having a fairly difficult time remembering why it was he should have been on top of the world at the moment.

There was an exchange of fairly loud words, he knew that much, and an invitation to Hogsmeade which she did accept, which was exciting. Whether or not that counted as him asking her on a date was still questionable, but he was still counting it as a win. Or at least a draw.

Frankly he was having difficulty remembering how the whole thing took place. All he really remembered was walking into the common room with confidence. And then, having that confidence turn more and more dreadful with each step into the his dormitory. He had been lying there, unable to sleep ever since. Of course, that may well have been because it was only three in the afternoon that was stopping him...

"There you are!" A fact that did not escape Harry, who found him a little while later in that spot. Much to his chagrin, Ron had not been eaten by Fang, but rather was lying down relaxing instead of attending Quidditch practice like he was supposed to currently be.

"Harry?"

"Just because you're my best mate doesn't mean I'm going to let you miss practice Ron."

"Practice?"

"Yes, you know, that thing that doesn't make you rubbish at goal tending?" The time suddenly came upon Ron like the Hogwart's express.

"Bloody hell, Harry, I didn't even realize the time."

"Please, just tell me you weren't having another one of your...dreams." Harry asked hesitantly.

"No, I just got a bit...distracted this afternoon."

"Was is because you lost your brain in some horrific accident?"

"No..."

"Then get on the pitch in twenty minutes!"

It hadn't occurred to Ron just how obsessed Harry had become since taking over as captain of the Quidditch team until he stood over Ron and made sure he dressed in exactly twenty minutes, mumbling all the way about the importance of practice and other such nonsense. Ron attempted to talk to Harry a few times about his distracting news, but the glare coming from the boy who lived reminded him a little too much of his mother, and stopped him dead in his tracks.

To make matters worse, Quidditch did not take his mind off his troubles. There was little hope that it would, but this particular day took the cake horrid performance. He kept seeing Hermione on the quaffle, making it quite difficult to block or hit or do anything other than shield himself and try to avoid it, really. Also hard to avoid, was making his behavior seem in any way normal for a goal tender.

When practice mercifully ended and Harry stopped yelling the surprisingly useless "Block better!" at him, Ron, dejected as ever floated down to the ground and headed back to the castle in silent moping. He hadn't made it ten steps before Ginny came up behind him, dragging a reluctant Harry along for the ride by the shirt.

"Oy, Ginny, Stop!" The boy begged off, but she did not relent.

"Not until you knock some sense into my brother and your best friend."

"He's fine!"

"He's not fine. Even Ron isn't that bad at goal!"

"Hey!" Ron tried to object.

"Shut it!" Ginny said, quieting both boys, "Harry, obviously something it bothering Ron, who happens to be your best friend so how about we listen to his stupid problems so he can stop sucking at goal, eh?"

"Thanks, Ginny, very touching," Ron scoffed.

"And you," She continued, barely heeding him, "Spill it because there has got to be a damn good reason you've been acting so rubbish." Ron looked down, guilty.

"It's Hermione."

"Aww man!" Harry groaned.

"Again?" Ginny sighed, "Alright, what is it?"

"I'm going to Hogsmeade with her this weekend." Ron explained. The two looked dubious.

"So...?" Harry asked.

"That's great!" Ginny said, somewhat cautiously though, "Like, a proper date, yes?"

"I...I think so. Maybe."

"Ron, did you ask Hermione on a date..."

"I'm not really sure."

"How can you not be sure?"

"Well, we were sort of arguing and-"

"Of course they were."

"Anyway, I think she's been avoiding me and she denied it so I asked her to go with me and she said yes. What do you think?"

After asking a few more questions, Ginny stood in silence for a while. There was a look of pensive thought on her face as she gathered the information in her mind and digested it. Ron and even Harry stood in tacit anticipation of what she was going to rule. It was slightly pathetic for the two, so clueless in the ways of women they were waiting for a younger student to help guide the way, but neither was willing to voice this concern. Finally she spoke up.

"I give up!. The pair of you are ridiculous! I give up!" And promptly walked away.

Ron and Harry stood a little while longer in shock before Harry finally slapped him on the shoulder and motioned back to the castle. Ron followed slightly behind his friend the entire way, slightly hopeless. Even _Ginny_ was at a loss of what to do. And she loved butting into his life. It was clear to him now, cloud nine was overrated. In a million years, he never would have imagined feeling this way after Hermione said yes to a "date" with him. How could a dream come true be so terrible?

Sitting back in bed it was all he could do to finally get his eyes closed tight enough for sleep to come and rescue him from reality. That night, he dreamed of the Hermione quaffles.

* * *

**I'm trying to get in the habit of responding to reviews particularly if they warrant it so...Questions? Comments? Review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Well then, sorry about the break, that was unexpected. Regardless, Enjoy.**

* * *

Hermione Granger should have been thinking of a lot of things before her rapid descent down the stairs from the girl dormitory. About how this maybe-date was going to go. What she should say, what she should do, and more importantly what not to say and do. About how she was going to handle a whole day with Ron without blathering on like an idiot about fancying him. Somewhere in that impressive mind of hers there, there was a tiny Hermione being suffocated by hormones who's chief concern was her essay due the following Monday she had only written two rough drafts of to date. There should have been a lot of thoughts running through her mind, but instead there was only one:

_Merlin's bloody beard, I'm late!_

Yes, even the small piece of her that chastised cursing, even mental cursing, was not on top form with this impending Hogsmeade trip. Such mental necessities were taking a backseat today. A rather unfortunate circumstance considering she was barreling down the staircase at top speeds and causing her to throw caution quite forcefully to the wind. Fortunately she did not fall...just stumble rather ridiculously upon the final step. She corrected herself just in time to make as much noise as humanly possible, and certainly enough to alert Ron to her presence.

If, of course, he was actually there. In this instance he was not, and the relief from embarrassment Hermione temporarily felt was immediately replaced with indignation. She was approximately five minutes late and he wasn't even there yet? How dare he! How dare he put her through all of this and not even show up. She had half the mind to march up the stairs and cancel the whole thing...Except he would probably argue it was another excuse to avoid him...and they'd probably get in a row...and truth be told she wanted more than anything else in the world to spend the day with him in Hogsmeade. Talking, laughing, nervously touching...

Unwittingly lost in her daydreams of Ron patiently waiting while she searched countless shops for old tombs and buying her coffee and raptly listening to her detailed and interesting facts from _Hogwarts, A History_, Hermione was unaware of reality like Ron so hopelessly was. You see, while Hermione built this magnificent and perfect day with the boy of her day dreams, Ron was having trouble making it past the last step from his own dormitory.

He had been standing there long enough to watch Hermione try to decide between walking back up the stairs or staying. He watched her take a seat by the fireplace and decide to stay. While ordinarily that should have made him happy, the discomfort he was feeling could not be helped. The entire night he dreamed up every possible negative scenario. A good chunk involved her never showing up at all. The worst ones were when she did. Facing that possibility was harder for him than imagined.

Behind Hermione there was a creak from Ron's shoe once again stepping down and back up that last step in doubt of what to do next. From her stupor she glanced toward the noise and saw him standing quite out of sorts.

If she had asked, he would have said it was because he himself had stumbled, or he was tired perhaps. In truth, it was because as soon as she looked his way, every thought in his mind melted away. All the bad dreams and doubts were replaced by one unifying thought.

_She is gorgeous._

Admittedly, if anyone else were in the room, they likely would not have agreed with his assessment. Especially since her own thoughts made her quite out of sorts herself and her dreamy contemplating left her face quite unattractive. Ron didn't mind at all.

"Hey," He mustered with a wave.

"Hi," She meekly replied. Back in the real world nerves took precedence once more.

"Er, are you...ready?" He asked.

"Yeah," She breathed back. He smiled nervously and, after taking a moment to remember what smiling was, she returned the gesture.

"Well then, after you," He gestured toward the entrance.

As she passed by him she could smell the unmistakable scent of Ron and feel his unmistakable warmth. She tripped over the entrance because of it.

_Perfect._ She thought, _This should go smoothly._

Unbeknownst to her, Ron was sharing the exact same thought after getting distracted by her wonderful, wonderful hair in his face and the touch of her soft hand in his after catching her before she fell to the ground. Because of that, he closed the portrait door on his hand.

They were sharing quite a few thoughts actually. If they had the ability to read each others mind, they may very well have not known the difference from one to the other. It might have made things go much smoother too. Instead, they both, simultaneously thought with a sigh:

_Here we go._

* * *

**Right. Kind of a short one, especially after a break, but I will return...with a vengeance.**

**Or, more, you know, words. **

**Anyway, as always, questions? Comments? Review!  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi there. New chapter, new style too. Enjoy.**

* * *

**An interlude into the impressive minds of teenagers Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.**

_Have these walk always taken this long?_

Should I say something? I should say something. I don't think I've said anything since we left. Merlin this walk is long.

_Maybe I should say something. I don't think she's said a word since we left..._

The question is what? Make a comment about the weather! No, that's stupid...

_Then again, neither have I. Wait, should I be making conversation? Is that my job? Oh god..._

What about just asking where he wants to go first? Unless he has a plan...Or I'm supposed to. Oh god...

_Ok, Ron, calm down. Breathe. Look at her. Smile._

Why on earth is he looking at me like that? He looks like a mad man.

_See? That went brilliant._

"So I was thinking..."

_God, why did you just say that? You weren't thinking at all you daft git._

Thank god, he's talking. Oh, but now I look stupid for not saying anything first.

"Er..."

_You've got nothing! Stop talking!_

He seems a bit lost...

"You were thinking maybe of getting something to drink?"

_Hermione, you are a life saver._

"Yeah!"

Why did you do that? Now he's probably thinking you're a know-it-all...

_That could have been awkward._

...And why not? You are a ridiculous busy body you-

"After you."

Oh my, how gentlemanly.

_I hope she doesn't realize from here I can stare at her arse..._

I should really give him more credit sometimes.

_...Stop looking... she's gonna notice...nah..._

"What would you like to drink, Ron?"

_Abort! Abort!_

"Oh, uh..B-b-butt-er-butterbeer please."

_Couldn't have ordered something without "butt" in the name? Look away! Look at anything but her.  
_

What is he...Oh, I see.

_There's no way you got away with that. Idiot._

So stupid of you to get your hopes up, really.

_Should I bring it up? Maybe make up an excuse..._

This is just a bet, remember?

_What's that thing Lovegood says sneaks round people's bums? _

He has every right to look at other girls. DO. NOT. GET. UPSET.

_Forget it, when she gets back with the drinks just pretend nothing happened._

_"_Listen, Hermione, about-"

"Here's your drink."

Well, a little passive aggression can't hurt...

_What are you doing? Don't talk about it, she's clearly upset._

I wish he would just reject me already so I didn't have to feel this way every time he looked at dim wits like Lavender.

_Well I can't tell her now, she's in a huff._

At least then I could get over it.

_Stop it, you're just making excuses. It's just the two of you, just say it._

I don't want to get over it though.

_Don't chicken out._

I don't want him to hurt me.

_Chicken._

"Shall we go?"

"Yes, let's. Do you mind if we pop into the book shop, just for a little bit-"

He's chuckling...

"What's so funny?"

"I was already planning on spending half the trip there, really, there's no need to claim to be taking any sort of quick trip."

_Was that insulting? I should have been more polite..._

Merlin, am I that bad with books? Maybe we shouldn't go, I don't want to bore him...

"Honestly, Mione, it's fine."

"Well, alright then. I hate when you call me that by the way."

No I don't.

_No you don't, if you really did you wouldn't be smiling like that.  
_

He's holding the door open for you. When did he start acting like this?

_That beautiful smile..._

Probably for some girl...

_She used that shampoo today._

At least you can enjoy the fringe benefits.

_I wonder if she knows it's my favorite..._

He's really warm, I can feel it from here...Maybe if I angle correctly I can walk close enough to feel it...

_I bet if I just reached out a little bit I could touch her hand..._

I wonder if he notices...

_Not too much farther..._

Oh my...

_That was stupid._

Why did he take his hand away?

_Why did I try that? Moron._

Bring it back...

"H-here we are."

"Right..."

Stop looking at him and start looking for a book already.

_Perfect, she's gonna get distracted by books and not even remember how much of an idiot I was. _

Was I even looking for a book? Was he trying to hold my hand?

_Keep a good distance..._

Concentrate. What was the book?

_Stay in the Quidditch section. She wouldn't do anywhere near it._

Oh...I remember...

_Bloody hell, what is she doing here?_

_"_What are you doing in here?"

"I'm looking for a book, why?"

"It's the quidditch section."

Should I tell him?

"Oh...I-I didn't realize."

_Wait a second..._

"How did you not know that?"

"I'm sorry?"

No, he'll think your being silly.

"C'mon, I'm sure you've got this place memorized, you have to know you're in the middle of the quidditch section."

"I-uh... didn't find it. I thought you might be here. Let's go."

"Umm-"

_Wait, didn't she s- Merlin, she's holding my hand._

Ohgodohgodohgod

_It's so soft..._

"We should probably head back, Ron. It's getting late."

_Maybe if I don't let go..._

"Sorry?"

"I think maybe it's time to head back to the castle."

No I don't. I don't want this day to end. I don't want to let go.

_No. I want to stay here._

"Yeah, yeah that's probably a good idea."

Don't let go. Don't let go. Don't let go.

_Don't let go. Don't let go. Don't let go._

Damn.

_Damn._

This is such a long walk.

_Are we there yet?_

"Well..."

"I had fun, Ron."

"Me too. See you in class tomorrow?"

No.

"Yes."

"Ok, well, Have a good night 'Mione. Sweet dreams."

"You too Ronald."

_I love you._

I love you.

* * *

**So I wanted to try out something new with this chapter. How'd it go? Comments? Questions? Review.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Whoo hoo, an update in a moderate amount of time (and on the birthday no less)! Enjoy.**

* * *

Harry Potter was living in a dream. It was a rather nice dream; colors were a bit brighter than usual, foods tasted better, smells were oh so aromatic. It was all very pleasant and, sadly, all very unreal.

The dream world in question involved a lot of things. It involved a nice and beautiful trip to Hogsmeade where he would spend his time exactly how he wished with whomever he wished. It was a perfect dream where he would splurge on quidditch equipment and sweets. Perhaps a few items from Fred and George's shop to make Potions class a little more tolerable.

Most importantly of all he would be with Ginny. He would take her out for butterbeers and walk until sunset forced them back into the castle. There would have been copious snogging (though, well out of range of her brother's shop...and really all of her brothers in general).

Maybe, just maybe, he would have caught up with Ron or Hermione after their maybe-whatever-it-is and catch up with his friends. If, of course, they weren't busy fighting or, possibly worse, snogging. In which case he would be as far away from them as possible. Nothing would have been better than his dream of a day.

Instead, he spent most of his day in the bushes.

Not by choice, of course. At least not by his choice.

He really should have known better than to think that there was any way Ginny was truly giving up on the prospect of watching Hermione and Ron unite. What he did not expect, however, was her dragging him along for the ride.

"Are you coming with me?" She asked him early in the morning.

"Er, yeah?" He had responded, already under the impression that they were supposed to spend the day together.

"Great, come on then."

With that, she took him by the hand. Not something he would usually object to, but something was clearly amiss. In an attempt to get back on track with that wonderful dream of his he slowed his step.

"Ginny, where exactly are we going?"

"Hogsmeade." His apprehension relented.

"Of course. I don't know what I wa-"

"How else are we supposed to see what happened with Hermione and my idiot brother?"

Suddenly all that relented feeling came rushing back and all Harry really wanted to do was slap his hand to his forehead. Partly for his stupidity, partly because it was not quite his idea of a romantic day out.

"Ginny I don't know if that's such a good idea..."

"Oh come on, it's not like they'd be able to do it on their own. Maybe we can help."

He met her eyes and sighed. She had that look. That look she got only on a few occasions that reminded him of the Weasley's patented stubbornness. Usually it was reserved only on the pitch, but now left him a not so tough choice to make. Go with her, or stay behind.

"Fine."

And that is how Harry found his himself in the bushes, quite put out, and not at all living the dream he wished he was.

Making matters worse, other than the fact that he was currently stalking his two best friends as they continued on their merry way towards either coupledom (and the inherent doom that came with the two of them snogging at all hours of the day) or a massive fight (which would place him smack dab in the middle), was how their journey was affecting Ginny.

One minute, they were smiling and laughing, enjoying the day and generally putting Ginny in a good enough mood to sneak Harry a quick peck on the cheek or lingering hug. Those were the good moments. Whenever, and sadly this was far more common, they did something stupid (or stupid in the eyes of Ginny at least) there was a look. Not just any look, but one that struck fear into the hearts of man and made Harry feel like he was in the presence of a dementor who'd had a bad day.

This roller coaster of emotion went on all day. Through every lingering stare that ended without fanfare and slight teasing that started as teasing only to go slightly too far. Harry's nerves were shot with uncertainty and suddenly he had a much better understanding of what it was like to be unsure about if the girl he liked actually liked him too.

He never imagined he would ever be happy to head back to the castle after a day at Hogsmeade, but after this day his feet could not carry him faster. Oblivious to this was the equally spent Ginny who occupied the time walking back in an intense diatribe on how the pair of them were hopeless and how if it was up to her they would have already gotten together by now. Harry doubted she noticed the fact that he hadn't said a word the entire time.

Laying in bed that night, he made a point to avoid Ron. While he was certain he was in the right in hating his friend at the moment, he could hardly explain:

"I'm mad at you for keeping me from snogging your sister and had to spend most of my day stalking you."

Without sounding quite mad and getting quite thoroughly beaten senseless.

All he wanted was to lay down and rest. Perhaps dream of that day he expected to actually have and wake up the next day refreshed enough to tackle the homework and maybe throw a few quaffles toward Ron hard enough to knock him off his broom.

Of course, even that was not in the cards for Harry. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he felt something peculiar underneath his blanket. At first it was a few owl feathers, not uncommon with Hedwig, who liked to occasionally muck about his room and away from the other owls for a bit. The bit of parchment in tow, however, was not.

_Head up to the tower to meet me tonight._

Harry felt a little foolish for a moment, thinking the invitation was from Hedwig, but nonetheless obliged, hoping it wasn't Ron or Hermione wanting to talk about their feelings or other such bollucks. If that was the case, he would rather talk to Hedwig.

Once there it was apparent it wasn't Ron or Hermione. Hedwig was in the corner, but the owl was not the owner of the note either. Somewhat sheepishly, or at least as much as he had ever seen, Ginny stood before him.

"Hi." He said, somewhat shocked to see her.

"Hi." She replied.

"You wanted to meet?"

"Among other things."

Later, Harry vaguely recalled an apology of sorts in between kisses. Mostly, though he just remembered the kissing.

Back in the dorm room, Ron was still awake and Harry's anger had quite suddenly dissipated.

"Hey, mate" He greeted, trying to casually not exude rays of I just kissed your sister.

"Hey," Ron moped.

Earlier, Harry would have quite happily left it at that and not even interacted with his friend. For some reason, he was feeling a bit chipper for the middle of the night though.

"Things go alright today?" He asked.

Ron just shrugged.

"I see."

"I don't know what to do."

"Chin up, man," Harry said, somewhat unable to contain his smile in front of the less than happy friend of his. He had good reason to be, though. He learned something fairly impressive that day.

"Sometimes what you want to come true doesn't. Sometimes things are better than a dream come true."

* * *

**Questions? Comments? Review!**


End file.
